


Pordinson? Thiderman? Spor!

by CodeGreen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, College, Crime Fighting, Deal With It, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Protective Tony Stark, Rare Pairings, Romantic Comedy, peter is 19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-11-05 22:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 18,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17927486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodeGreen/pseuds/CodeGreen
Summary: Peter's concentration was no match for his racing thoughts and growling stomach. He found a blank page in his notebook and started making lists.1 - People Who Know About Spider-Man2 - People Who Know About the Thor Thing3 - Banh Mi That Delivers to QueensA series of shorts about Peter Parker's attempts to survive college and keep Mr Stark from blowing up Thor





	1. No Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s building towards something, I swear...

Tony bobbled his head from side to side, eyes locked on Peter. "So. I owe you an apology."

Peter nodded. Tony nodded back at him.

"Mr Stark, that's not an apology."

"It's implied." He worked out a kink in his jaw. "Fine. I'm sorry."

"Foooorrrr..."

"It's a little late in the evening to start an itemized list for you, kid." He turned back to survey the kitchen, kicked at the shards of a plate he'd definitely broken earlier. He wasn't sorry about that.

"Hold up!" Tony swirled around, one finger up. "So you and Thor, huh? Look, I will give you five grand to just dump his lunky ass now. You're sure I can't talk you out of this one?"

Peter looked around the room. Clint Barton was passed out on the overstuffed couch. Bucky's severed arm rested on top of the coffee table. Someone had mashed half of Peter's cheesecake into the rug. He stepped forward, pulled at the sleeve of his sweater with one hand.

"Yeah. I'm sure. Yeah."

"You know he's, like, 300 years old."

"I know, Mr Stark."

Tony's eyes cleared for a moment as he considered Peter in front of him, his brain attempting to reject the idea that his young charge was a consenting adult.

"Ok."

He turned and walked out of the room, screaming down the hallway, "Someone get me Thor!"


	2. Thor vs Saturday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months earlier...

"Stop the clock!" Peter burst through the front door and ran into the kitchen. "Was I close?"

Thor shook his head and stared at the timer on the kitchen counter. "Not even close! Six and a half minutes."

"What? That's super close, you're crazy. Front door, to the store, found the eggs, PAID for the eggs, and back to the front door in six and a half minutes. That's impressive. Amazing even. I'm amazing."

"Is that so?" Thor slid an arm around the small of his back and pulled him closer. He buried his head in the nape of Peter's neck and inhaled deeply. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Peter squirmed. It had taken him weeks to notice Thor's affections and even longer to believe they were real. Now that he returned them, he still wasn't sure how to go about being adored. So instead, he misdirected.

"I was 90 seconds off,” wriggled free and wandered to a cupboard. He promised Thor it would be no more than five minutes. Six and a half was pretty close.

Thor grabbed an egg, having waited all morning for a chance to break one open. The man could send a hammer through the Earth's crust for entertainment, but cracking an egg required 100% of his focus.

Thor clicked the egg against the sink, too gently. He tried again, this time making a tiny clink against metal. He inspected the unharmed egg and tried a third time. Peter didn't have to look up to know what happened, heard the shell crunch and egg splatter across the countertop.

Thor held both hands up in confusion and watched yolk drip down his forearms. His muscles flexed under the stretched out t-shirt he'd most definitely stolen from Steve Rogers, along with the pajama pants. He'd packed a week's worth of clothes for his first weekend visit to Peter's home in Queens, just in case.

Peter expertly cracked an egg and plopped the contents into a bowl along with cinnamon and a whole host of spices. Thor decided to make himself useful by cutting up a loaf of bread.

"Yes, you were 90 seconds off. But an important 90 seconds."

Peter dug around for a whisk. "Ahhh. See, I didn't know it was an _important_ 90 seconds. If I had known that I would've pushed an old lady or gone to the self check-out or something."

"Sugar cane, we're alone," Thor watched him over his shoulder. "Your aunt isn't back for another... 28 hours. How many seconds are in 28 hours?"

Peter kept stirring, head tilted to one side for a moment. "One-hundred-thousand, eight-hundred."

"Math mage."

"It's pretty easy, honestly. It's just 60-squared multiplied by 28."

"You're a modest math mage. Who owes me 90 important seconds." Thor smiled, sawed through the bread with a flourish. "Now, how does one French a toast?"


	3. Just Like Riding a Bike

The record would later show - or at least the video playback courtesy of JARVIS later showed - that Peter tried to warn him from the start.

Thor, many many beers into his night, wholeheartedly disagreed. They sat alone on the balcony outside of Avengers Tower, voices low and conspiratorial. Passing lights and flashers made Peter’s eyes glitter when he spoke, his body inching closer to Thor with each word, their knees eventually brushing and telling their own secrets. He occasionally glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had spotted them until he was too absorbed in the conversation to care. Too lost in the hum of Thor's gentle bass and the boom of his laugh. Too busy closing one eye and pretending to squish the God with two fingers. Swiping tiny swigs of beer whenever Thor relaxed, a quick jet of webbing against glass and pulling the stein to his lips effortlessly. That's what started the entire debate.

For all his years and battles and feats, Peter was positive that Thor wouldn't be able to stomach web-slinging nearly as well as Peter handled his first flight.

A week ago, unable to find a private corner of the Tower, Thor impulsively scooped Peter up in his arms and took off to its very peak. They sat on the roof and stared up at stars, felt their fingers intertwine, did nothing together and reveled in it. Aside from the initial terror, Peter was cool with the whole flying thing. Other 19 years-olds were drinking cheap beer and dry humping in dorm rooms. He was studying the deeply creased life-line that ran along the palm of a God and learning that he was down for impromptu flights up to the top of skyscrapers. He even pretended he wasn't cold for the first hour.

Now, days later and sneaking moments on the balcony together, Thor tangles himself in webbing while trying to wrestle his beer back from the teen. Peter pulls back two fingers, web splattering across the bridge of Thor's nose and down his lips. He mocking licks at it with his tongue and Peter is turned on by the sight of his webbing for the first time.

He shakes the thought out of his head and somehow - the idea coming out of his mouth before ever consulting his brain - he suggests they go for Thor's first web-slinging. Only he doesn't suggest it. He makes it a challenge. Peter’s a better flyer than Thor is a web-slinger, he’s willing to bet breakfast duties on it.

Thor stands on a chair and jumps onto Peter's back, both of them pleasantly surprised when Peter easily holds his weight.

"Earth men... they are not always so strong?"

"Most aren’t enhanced by escaped science projects. I'm radioactive!"

Peter can feel Thor reach into his own pants and readjust self-consciously. "Don't worry, I think you're safe from any radioactivity at this point."

"Better safe than sorry." Thor chomps in his ear. "Beside-

"-And we're off!" Peter's yanking them forward and cutting through the air before the other man can finish his sentence. He spots a light post, swings them over it once just to showboat and is pulling them between skyscrapers. Swinging through the neighborhood beside Avengers Tower is basically Peter's morning commute. He could do it with his eyes closed. Or with an ancient God screaming his head off and gripping onto his chest for dear life.

But - sling-shoting them around a corner and over the top of Times Square - Peter decides the screaming God is a lot more fun.


	4. Come To My Window

A sudden gust of wind scattered the papers along Peter's bed. He'd propped his bedroom window open as soon as he got home, enjoying the warm summer breeze and familiar neighborhood sounds before losing himself in his Mechanical Physics homework. Besides occasional breaks to cram pretzel sticks in this mouth or refill his water glass, he'd forgotten about the outside world until the blast of warm air sent papers flying. 

Thor popped the screen out of the window and climbed in, grin wide on his face.

"Anyone home?"

Peter looked up from his bed, then down at the ruined window screen. "Oh man. Those aren't free, ya know! May’s gonna kill me."

Thor had Peter's face between his two massive hands, lips warm against Peter's. "I take it you're glad to see me."

"Hi," Peter sighed into Thor's lips. "I have a front door."

"And a protective aunt."

"Who isn't home for another few hours. And, I’ve been thinking, maybe you should meet her anyway. She's pretty cool most of the time. But she doesn't love surprises."

Thor settled his chest against Peter's and pushed him down into the bed. "Um-hmm." He wasn't listening. His humming made Peter's lips buzz. Papers crunched underneath their shoulders.

It occurred to him that he could protest just for the fun of it. Spin Thor onto his back, get up, and pretend to go back to studying at his desk. Teach Thor that he had no right to fly through Peter's bedroom window and distract him from his work now that he'd started at Columbia. He couldn't just barge in just because he wanted to. But Thor's teeth caught his bottom lip and a strong hand made contact with the bare skin exposed by his tangled shirt and the protests melted like sand castles against a crashing wave.

And maybe he was wrong. Maybe (Peter was distantly aware he’d slipped Thor's v-neck above his head) Thor had a right, or some kind of half a right. They’d been sneaking around New York and stealing moments together for weeks now and neither one had ever denied the other, never been too busy for a call or a meal or anything else. Much to Thor's pleasant surprise, Peter Parker wasn't very good at saying no. Not that he ever wanted to.

So this was the new normal. Peter relished the hiss that escaped Thor when his hands ran through the God's hair. And maybe they each had some rights and expectations of the other, even if they never spoke about it. Some wrinkled physics assignments weren't the end of the world.

Peter had one arm out of his t-shirt when the hairs on his arm stood up. Fine hairs along his forearm and up to his neck shooting straight up when he was too distracted to hear the creak of the front door.

The sharp intake of breath was all Thor needed to immediately jump onto his feet.

"An intruder?" His chest rose and fell, face flushed and hot but his attention solely focused on Peter's closed bedroom door. Eyes taking on a spark of blue.

"Worse. It’s May!" Peter struggled back into his shirt, his hand trying and failing to find the arm hole over and over again. "Is this shirt broken?! Shit. Ok, don't panic."

Peter got to his feet and cracked the door open. "We'll just tell her-" by the time he looked back over this shoulder, Thor was gone. He jumped towards the window, cracked a shoulder hard against the window pane, and flew into the sky with a rumble of thunder.

"Son of a..." Peter shook his head. Apparently Thor was part attack dog but all scaredy cat. The God of Thunder, whether he'd admit it or not, was afraid of Aunt May.

"Peter?" May made her way down the hallway. "What was that? Are you ok?"

"Yeah," he swung his door open entirely. "I'm fine. Just startled a little when you came home. Working on homework."

"Have you eaten?" She stopped when she finally got a decent look at her nephew. She placed a hand on his forehead. "You look flushed. You're burning up. Are you sure you're ok?"

Words stuck in his throat. A rush of blood hit his cheeks and he could practically feel the embarrassment radiating against her hand. "I'm fine. Just really lost myself in homework. Got a little hot and bothered - warm! Warm when something blew me through - blew in through the window. It’s hot out.”

"Right..." She took her hand off his forehead and glanced into his room. "Alright, well time for a study break. I'll make burgers. And clean up your room before you come down, ok?"

Peter looked over his shoulder at the gym clothes and engineering books scattered around the bedroom. Thor's oversized black v-neck, sleeves stretched by thick arms, still laid in a heap beside the bed. Shit.

"Yeah! Yeah. Sounds good. Ok. Burgers! Yum." He rubbed his belly for some reason. The room really was feeling hot all of the sudden.

A hard knock at the front door rescued him. He muttered a quiet thanks of the universe under his breath while May made her way to the door.

Peter scrambled to throw the offending shirt in with the rest of his laundry and straightened the wrinkles in his homework when he heard a familiar accented voice. The low timbre set his spidey-sense into a full panic.

"Umm. Yes." He could hear Thor struggle for words out on the front porch.

"Can I help you?" May sounded genuinely confused. Peter rushed to get to the door before things could get worse.

"Yes. Yes you can," the God rubbed the back of his neck. "Is this the house of young Peter? Parker. Peter Parker lives here, if I am correct."

 _Stop talking stop talking stoptalking!_ Peter slammed on the brakes just behind May.

"I am here," Thor pushed through, "to return him this book. He left it at university and I thought he may need it."

Thor handed May a battered copy of Principles of Quantum Mechanics and tried to disguise the slight tremor in his hands. Peter peered over May's shoulder to see Thor on the porch, dressed in a bathrobe he'd clearly just stolen off their neighbor's clothes line.

"I'll take that," he pushed past his aunt and grabbed the book. "May, this is Professor Odinson. He's an adjunct at Columbia. Professor, this is my aunt."

Something deeply earnest swept across Thor's face, the fear leaving his eyes and replaced by something... hopeful.

"It is genuinely an honor to meet you." He shook her hand, mindful that she didn't contain the same super strength of her nephew. "Truly."

"Sure," May fought to suppress the confusion in her voice, aware this strangely dressed professor must've traveled across half of New York to return her nephew's book, and now had been shaking her hand for a good 15 seconds. "Ok! I'm going to start dinner. Would you care to join us, Professor?"

"No!" Peter held up the book that Thor had knocked out of his window 5 minutes earlier. "No, I've really got to study. Professor, a word please?"

Thor dropped May's hand and nodded. May spared Peter a darting glance before leaving them alone on the porch. Peter shifted his weight from foot to foot and watched a group of cyclists whizz down the street. The air was thick, the sky still a deep purple. Thor stared at the ground.

"I am embarrassed."

"It's fine. Really. Just next time - what are you wearing?"

"I borrowed this tunic from a nearby citizen."

"It's a woman's bathrobe."

"Why would you wear a robe in the bath? Waste of a good tunic, really.”

Peter stood on his tiptoes, pressed his lips quickly to Thor's cheek. He glanced behind him to be sure May hadn't seen.

"Just next time, use the front door."

Thor grinned, the hope swelling in his chest again. "Yes. Next time."


	5. Mud Slinging

"Kid, we got this one covered. Go back to soccer practice."

Tony's laser beam blasted through the strange invading horde. The ghouls melted in half, torsos coming apart and sliding to the ground. Then collecting in a pool, like liquid, and climbed back up their own severed legs. They were viscous, muddy, rebuilding and reassembling faster than the Avengers could take them out. Tony cursed under his breath.

Massive bolts of lightening reigned down, exploding the slippery soldiers like little pieces of jello. Thor made a hard landing in the center of the mud pit, watched in horror as the tiny globs found each other and began reforming.

"Peter?! You must leave."

"See," Tony tried flash-freezing a glob, watched it melt as soon as it came into contact with another. "Even the Thor-pedo agrees with me on this one. Go home. Cut us up some orange slices for after the game."

Nat and Clint were forced to take higher ground and rain down bullets, to little effect. Captain America stood beside them on the rooftop, nearly useless after his shield got stuck in a mud monster that was now kicking over cars on 1st Avenue.

"It is not safe for you here," Thor's axe made splashes against each monster he struck, soldiering on even if he couldn't stop them from reforming every time. He took out another five with one swing. It was a battle that couldn't be won. "Please, Peter. I beg you."

Thor rarely sounded so serious. Nat never took her eyes of her target as she emptied another clip, still managed to send a questioning look over her shoulder. Clint shrugged.

"Ok, but listen! Mr Stark, I have an idea."

"You have 30 seconds before FRIDAY jet-blasts you back to homeroom. What’ve you got?"

"Holes!" Peter yelled. The sound of Thor choking barely made it over the shared intercom before he roared at another monster.

"I'm not following."

"You can't blast 'em or stomp 'em or whatever. But we can contain them. Blast a hole into the ground, trap them all in there, seal it off and fire them back into space."

Thor's axe shot up into the sky and came back to Earth, splintering concrete and forming a crater in the street.

"Ugh, I'm going to have to pay for that." Tony groaned. "Clint, Nat - round them up."

"On it."

Peter was blocks away and already pulling on civilian shoes when he was somehow swept off his feet. Thor tossed him over his shoulder in one movement.

"Woah! Hey! Sack of potatoes much?"

"According to Asgardian custom, we are now married."

Peter's face flushed, though it could've been because he was upside down and Thor was about to launch them into flight. "Wait, really? Cuz-"

The laugh reverberated from Thor's back and against Peter's chest. "No. But you should still do what I say in these fights."

Peter kept his eyes on Thor's boots and watched the buildings grow small in the distance. He might be a little turned around right now, but they both knew who was the real brains of the operation.


	6. Let’s All Go To The Lobby!

Ned pushed his way down the aisle and took the open seat beside MJ. "Sorry I'm late! I'm here, I'm here."

The lights were still up and trailers hadn't started yet, so he wasn't technically late for the movie but they all knew the trailers were the best part.

She held up a box of candy. "Jujyfruit? I'm trialing vintage snacks."

"Uh, no thanks." He side-eyed the box. "Vintage isn't really a quality I'm looking for in my food."

"Suture yourself." She tossed one into the air and tried to catch it in her mouth, watched it bounce on the floor and under another chair. "That one doesn't count."

"Where's Peter? He's gonna miss the trailer for that new NeverEnding Story remake."

"Hard pass."

"Are you kidding?!" Ned's voice rose so loud the couple in front turned to stare. MJ shooed them away with her box of Jujyfruits.

"Did I miss it?" Peter climbed over his chair from the back row and settled in. "Oh, they haven't even started the previews yet. Sweet."

"Jujyfruit?"

"Oh man, thank you." He stuck his hand out over Ned while MJ offered him some plasticine candies. He tossed his head back and crammed them in his mouth. Grimaced.

MJ laughed, "I never said they were good."

They squirmed in their chairs, anxious for the movie to start. Since they'd gone to different colleges it'd been hard to find time to hang out like they did in high school, but the three of them still stole time for each other when they could. Ned had become instrumental in Peter's crime fighting. It didn't take long for MJ to figure it out and start a habit of swiping memorabilia from Peter's bedroom to auction off at charity fundraisers.

Peter held his hand out for more candy. They might taste terrible but he was starving. Also, sweaty.

"Dude," Ned recoiled when Peter dripped on him. "What, did you run here or something?"

"Kind of. Can I get some more of those Scooby Fruits?"

"Jujyfruits. And no." MJ leaned forward on her chair so she could look at Peter. "Not until you tell us why you were late."

"What?" He left his hand open, waiting for her to crack and give him another candy. "I didn't miss anything, I'm not late."

She studied him. "You weren't slinging. You clearly don't even have the suit with you."

"Would you keep your voice down!" His whisper was high-pitched. He turned to Ned. "Can I borrow five bucks for popcorn, man? I'll Venmo you in the morning."

Ned leaned back, arms crossed. Peter could feel his friends connecting psychic puzzle pieces together.

"So you ran here instead of slinging," Ned nodded absent-mindedly. "You were in a hurry, you didn't eat, and somehow you just left your wallet and phone somewhere else? Dude, where _were_ you?"

MJ leaned forward even further, rattled her box of candies. "What's his name, Peter?"

"What?" Peter tried his best to act confused. "What're you talking about? Can I please borrow five dollars?"

"Yeah, of course," Ned pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "As soon as you tell us his name. Sorry, man."

Peter gripped the armrest, unsure of his next move. A long, low sound rumbled out of his stomach.

He snatched the money out of Ned's hand and jumped over the back of his seat.

"It's Thor!"

If he ran he could make it back before the trailers started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a little something below. I super appreciate it and you’ve already made it this far down!


	7. Beware Phil Coulson

Peter stood still, tried not to fidget in place. "It’s like, you know when you were a kid, and you spend all day in a ball pit. And then at night, right before you fall asleep, you feel it again. Like you're in bed but somehow back in the ball pit. That's what it feels like."

Agent Coulson nodded while he ran the spectrometer over Peter like an airport security guard. If airport security guards checked for lingering radiation or alien lifeforms after you spent a full day jumping through inter-dimensional portals.

"Alright, bud. You're clear." Coulson handed him a generic pair of jeans and a Columbia sweatshirt. "Good work today."

Peter hopped into the pants. "Really? Thanks, Agent Coulson."

"You can call me Phil after hours, Peter. It's ok."

"Thanks, Agent Coulson. Er, Phil." Peter pulled his head through the sweatshirt, saw the faint smile lines form around the agent's eyes. "Thank you, Phil."

"You're welcome." He said it simply. He took the point of the spectrometer and pressed it at a spot on Peter's neck. "That's funny, I've never heard of portal-jumping causing spontaneous hickeys. You meet any amorous extraterrestrials out there today?"

Peter slapped a hand over his neck. "Um... no. No, sir."

"Phil."

"No, Sir Phil."

Phil tossed his head back and laughed. Peter wasn't used to seeing him exercise so much personality. It was nice but a little unsettling. He pointlessly pulled the collar of the sweatshirt up for a moment.

"Well if it's not from the portal, must be from some friendly alien here on Earth." Phil's face stayed neutral but his eyes seemed to dance. Peter didn't dare respond. "Do you need a ride home, son? I can get you a cab."

"No," Peter shook his head. "I'm, uh, going to head up to the Tower. Just to say hi to everyone."

"Sure, head on up. I'll have wardrobe round up some turtlenecks."


	8. And Pepper Potts

"Whaaat?" Pepper lifted her clipboard, her voice feigning confusion. She was almost convincing, could've been a good field agent in another life. Clint rolled his eyes.

"I want no part in this."

"Oh come on, it's a quick inventory. For teamwork purposes. SHIELD put together this study and asked that I carry it out on their behalf." She flipped the first page over on the clipboard and laid it on the conference table. Looked from Clint to Thor and back. Poor guy had no idea what he was in for.

"Let's start with how well you know Dr Banner," she looked to Clint. "If the Hulk were to go on an uncontrollable rampage, or "Hulk out", how would you calm him?"

Clint actually gave himself a slight headache from the subsequent eye roll. "Pass."

"Fine." Pepper crossed a dramatic X across the question. "Thor, this next one is for you. If Peter were to be injured in a battle-"

"I would crush every enemy with the power of the Allfathers."

"Right." She made a quick flick of her wrist over the clipboard. Clint was fairly positive she'd actually drawn a smiley face.

"Oh, come on! He'd say that for everyone. Thor, what if I fell in battle?"

"I would crush every enemy with the power of the Allfathers."

"See!" Clint tossed both his hands up. He'd bet every arrow in his quiver that SHIELD had nothing to do with this questionnaire, but Phil and Pepper had thought it up together after Phil became suspicious of Peter.

"Fine," Pepper openly pouted. "Thor, when is Peter Parker's birthday?"

Thor stroked his beard. "I believe it was the 10th day of your August."

"That," she flipped a few pages to verify, "is correct. Wow! Ok, Clint. When is Dr Banner's birthday?"

"June 31st."

She made a pointless mark on the paper. "That's not even possible but fine, be like that. Thor - what is the true color of Ms Romanoff's hair?"

"The Widow? I... I do not know."

"That's ok, it's a questionnaire for team building. Now, what color are Spider-Man's eyes?"

"The deepest of brown." Thor looked into the distance, didn't even think to suppress the small smile that tugged at this lips. Clint had had enough.

"Are we done here? That's not even fair, no one knows Nat's actual hair color. So Peter's eyes are brown? Everyone's eyes are brown, Christ." He pushed his chair away from the table and made to stand up.

"What color are Agent Coulson's eyes?"

"Brown!"

Pepper flipped a few pages. She cocked her head to the side. "Are you sure?" 

"Of course I'm sure! You share a bed with a man long enough you ought to know what color his goddam eyes are!"

Pepper made another smiley on her paper. "Exactly." She cleared her throat. Clint sat back down. "Now, Thor. If Tony and Steve were both falling from a plane and you only had time to catch one, who should you save and why?"

"How high is this plane?"

"Very."

Thor tapped his foot, looked to Clint to be sure it wasn't some sort of trick question. He leaned back into his chair and cracked his knuckles. "I'm sorry, but I must save the Captain. Even unconscious, the magic within his suit should protect the Man of Iron. I am sorry if this offends you."

Pepper made a mark on the paper, a giddy smile on her face. "No, that's the correct protocol! Now, same question, accept Spider-Man and Captain America are the two that are falling."

Clint gritted his teeth. "This isn't funny."

Thor nodded. "I must again save the Captain."

"What?!" Clint and Pepper said it together, heads swiveling to Thor.

"Young Peter," Thor smiled, "he is more clever than you think. Falling is no match for the amazing Spider-Man."

Pepper made another mark on her paper. She held the clipboard tight to her chest and smiled triumphantly at Clint. "Great! I think we're all set here. I have to go get these answers to SHIELD. Agent Coulson will want to do some immediate analysis of the new team dynamics. Thank you, gentlemen."


	9. Beach Bums

Peter stretched out across his beach towel, long limbs spilling off the terrycloth and into warm sand. Thor sat beside him, tried not to leer and turned his attention back to their game. He pointed to a man in the surf with a too-tight swim suit and thick streaks of sunscreen along his shoulders.

"And him? What about that man?"

"Umm," Peter looked up from his towel, a hand over his eyes. Thor admired the way his shoulders flexed, followed the ropes of muscle down his shoulder and along his back to his red trunks.

"Hey," Peter twisted to look at him. "I know when you're staring."

Thor grinned, his cheeks red from the sun. "I genuinely don't care." He ran his eyes down the teenager's body a second time just for good measure.

"Alright," Peter pointed back at the man. "If today were a movie, his end credits name would be Lonely SPF Man."

It occurred to Thor that the sunscreen was thick on the man's shoulders because he had no one to rub it in for him. He was lonely. Peter was very good at this game.

"Ok, ok, ok. How about that girl?" Peter flicked his head to the right, short hair wagging in the direction of a little girl piling buckets of wet sand up into a small mountain. She giggled every time the mud lost it's grip and slopped out of the bucket.

She had a yellow suit with tiny pink ruffles on her shoulder. She was too young to remember the actual day, but part of Thor hoped she could still remember the feeling some day. The visceral joy. The tower of wet sand and the smell of the ocean.

"How about... Mud Girl." He was more warrior than poet.

Peter groaned. "You can do better than that. What about - Junior Sand Architect?"

"I like that very much," Thor brushed his hand along Peter's back, slow, lazy. Felt the grains of salt and sand tumble away and reveal stripes of smooth skin against his fingers.

"What about me?" He enjoyed the feeling of his fingers against Peter's back, the sound of waves crashing along the shoreline. "What would my name be in these end credits?"

"You," Peter rolled on to his side, propped up on one elbow. "You'd have your own name in this movie, you wouldn't need an end credits name."

"This is your game, sugar cane. You must play it."

"Ok, fine." He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, never intending to distract Thor but still succeeding. "How about Hunky Beach Guy?"

"Surely I am more than my anatomy."

"Says the guy who keeps staring whenever I try to read my book." Peter tried not to laugh, kicked some sand towards Thor's towel. "Alright. How about... Beach Guy Number One?"

Thor crossed his arms. "Beach Guy? A bit unremarkable. Though I don't mind the Number One status."

"Uh-huh. You don't want to play the end credits game, you just want me to stroke your ego."

"Ha!" Thor tossed his head back. "I am but a man."

"Yeah yeah." Peter scrambled to his knees, lips only inches away from Thor's. "How about Leading Man Number One?"

"Peter Parker's Leading Man," Thor said it slowly, almost as a question, waiting for Peter's face to reveal pleasure or disgust.

"Sure," he nodded. "Peter Parker's Leading Man."

"I would like that title very much."


	10. En Vino Veritas

Thor developed an obsession with Ninja Warrior. And then the Titan Games. By the time Bucky showed him how to record old reruns of American Gladiators, he was already dreaming up his ideal audition tapes for each show.

Dr Banner let him down gently, first explaining that American Gladiators hadn't been a show for more than 10 Earth years, then later by explaining the moral implications of competing on game shows.

"You're a freaking god!" Were his exact words.

Even Thor had to admit, he had a point. Peter tried introducing him to other game shows, Family Feud and Pyramid and Jeopardy. They didn't take. If physical combat naturally favored the Asgardian, trivia specific to the United States put him at an immediate disadvantage.

Until Clint, a non-super-powered man, absolutely owned the Winter Soldier in the latest Call of Duty. A skill that favored no man's strength or size, but still depended on more than luck or planet-specific trivia. It depended on strategy, timing, reaction speed, trash talk. Thor was exceptional at three of those four things!

His competitive spirit had propelled Thor through thousands of battles on Asgard. It also got him banned from using any of Bucky's controllers in Avengers Tower.

"If you break this one, I swear..." Bucky shook a metal fist at Thor. 

"You have my promise, I will be gentle."

"Yeah you will, that one's mine." Sam took a swig from a bottle in a paper bag, sat in front of the couch Bucky and Thor had propped themselves up on. He turned and handed the bottle to Bucky, who took a deep pull from it.

"Doesn't matter," Bucky wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "Steve finds any more shards of plastic in the couch he's going to have my ass."

"What a fun sexy time for you." Sam didn't bother turning around to face Bucky while making fun of him. He bobbed his head backwards towards the bottle. "Thor, drink it. It's good for the nerves."

Thor held his arm out, gripped the heavy bottle in one hand and took a gulp. It burned on the way down. It was satisfying.

Bucky watched him for a second to be sure it had all gone down. He kicked Sam, who immediately whirled around with a grin.

"What?" Thor felt the heat trickle down his throat and into his chest. "What have you done?"

Bucky jerked the paper bag off the bottle, revealing a golden urn. "Surprise! It's truth telling serum, courtesy of Doctor Strange."

"What? Why would you - how did the wizard?" The heat pooled in his stomach.

Sam rubbed his hands together, lips hooked into a predatory smile. "Don't worry about it. The important part is, well, just watch." He turned his attention to Bucky. "Hey, asshole. Did you break Red Wing while trying to scare the pizza man last week?"

Bucky's face was calm, serene. He leveled his gaze at Sam and spoke in an even voice. "No."

The sound had barely leapt off his tongue before Bucky contorted in pain. The gears of his metal arm whirred, would-be tendons clanking and pulling unnaturally. He ground his teeth together for seconds before it became too much.

"Alright, yes!" The scraping sound relented, Bucky leaned back against the couch and tried to catch his breath. "I broke him and I don't regret it." He flinched for a moment, afraid the pain would start again. "Huh, guess I really don't regret it. Whaddya know?"

Thor blinked, his eyes hardly believing what he'd seen. The Winter Soldier reduced to teeth gnashing from the slightest false syllable.

Sam pivoted and faced Thor. "So, big guy. You putting it to Parker?"

"I don't understand." Thor braced, waiting for some sort of pain. He really didn't understand the question.

"He means," Bucky dismissed Sam with a wave. "Are you and Peter - who, I should remind you, is practically a son to Tony Stark - are you knockin' boots?"

"Peter often wears tennis shoes."

Sam stretched his neck. "Dear lord, no wonder you're bad at trivia. Are you and Peter doing it. The "it" being "sex". Are you doing the sex?"

Thor's eyes bounced between the two men, adam's apple bobbing conspicuously. He debated his options. Stared at the golden bottle in front of him. He hated to betray Peter's trust but had learned long ago that certain magic could not be deceived.

"I have," he ran a hand through his hair, pulled at his own ear, "I have opened my bed to Peter, yes."

"No shit?" Bucky reached for the bottle, took another heavy drink. "Can't say I saw this one coming, but good for you. Two oldest men in the Tower are getting some - what's your excuse, Sam?"

"Saving myself until marriage." He turned back towards the TV.

Thor jumped to his feet. "That is not true!"

"No shit," Sam motioned for him to sit down.

"You should be in pain. You should be writhing in agony. The serum, from the wizard?"

Bucky burst into laughter. Sam rubbed his own temples, too embarrassed to laugh.

"Thor, brother, you think Strange is just going to give us truth telling serum? It's not magic. We just found some cheap vodka and played a hunch. But hey - we promise no one will tell Stark until you do. God help us if he finds out before you tell him."

Later that night, Steve was not happy about the number of crushed controllers wedged between the seat cushions.


	11. Strange things are afoot at the Circle K

"Oh shit. Oh man. Oh this is bad. Oh man," Peter rocked the man back and forth in his arms. "Oh man oh man oh man."

"Stop saying that!" Thor reached for his axe.

"No! No don't pull it out. I think it's the only thing keeping him alive."

The masked villain laid back against Peter. His tongue flopping out of his mouth would've been funny if they weren't fairly certain he was also about to die. Not many people survived being spontaneously impaled by Stormbreaker.

It was an accident. Kind of.

Peter had decided to sneak out his bedroom window when he heard the report on the police scanner. In his neighborhood. The closest patrol car couldn't make it for another 15 minutes, while a random man with some sort of anti-gravity boots was robbing rooftops. It was supposed to be an easy job. Find the guy, web him up real good, get out of there before the cops come make a mess of things.

Easy job.

What he didn't know, was that the anti-gravity boots also came with an anti-gravity ray gun. Peter was floating hundreds of feet above the pavement before he knew what hit him. He was about to figure out some brilliant solution when he heard the crack of thunder.

There was simply a roar and blur of gray before he was falling. His foot brushed against a wall, enough that he could push off it and towards another. He slowed until his fingers could adhere to the brick, never in danger of crashing into the ground. He was good at falling.

Thor waited, feet firmly on the pavement and relief and anguish mixing on his face. You're ok, he wanted to say. I killed him, he hated to admit. I would kill him again if it meant you were ok.

"Oh my god!" Peter tried to prop up the would-be villain. "Oh shit. Oh man. Oh this is bad. Oh man," Peter rocked the man back and forth in his arms. "Oh man oh man oh man."

"Stop saying that!" Thor reached for his axe.

"No! No don't pull it out. I think it's the only thing keeping him alive."

Thor pushed it back in.

"No, don't do that either!" Peter waved him off.

"I'm trying to help!" A crackle of light flicked in his eyes. "He could've killed you, Peter. I couldn't just idly watch and let him."

"I had that! Kinda. I would've figured something out." He laid the man down on the ground. "To be honest, I wasn't really expecting that whole ray gun thing, that was pretty cool and - Hey! What do you mean idly watch? Have you been-"

A flurry of orange sparks interrupted Peter. Thor looked relieved.

"As much as I believe an open dialogue is important for any healthy relationship," Strange's voice made it through the portal before he did, "I'm going to have to interrupt."

He stepped onto the street and inspected the situation. The man had stopped struggling. Peter didn't dare ask why. Thor fought the urge to reach out and return the axe to his grip.

"First - I can fix this. Pretty standard accidental murder." Strange waved at the villain errantly. "So don't panic. Second - and I hope you're listening because I'm about to defy the laws of nature to reverse your involuntary manslaughter charges - Peter, yes, he was watching you. He listens to the same police scanners. We all keep tabs on you. We care about you. You're welcome."

Thor puffed his chest up, momentarily vindicated. Peter folded his arms across his chest.

"Third - you. Asgardian. You gotta learn to give people some space. Peter is going to have problems you can't fix with an axe."

"Wait-wait-wait," Peter held both hands up, waved in a red and blue blur. "Does everyone know about this?"

Strange shrugged. "I don't know, I don't care. I know, that's what matters."

"And," Thor cleared his throat, "the Falcon and the Winter Soldier."

"What?!"

"They cursed me!" Thor gave in to the urge and pulled the axe back to his hand, shook off the viscera clinging to it.

Peter tried to keep count in his head. "I'm pretty sure Agent Coulson figured it out."

"Oh! And Pepper Potts. Perhaps the Hawkeye, as well."

"Crap!" Peter kicked at a rock. "Everyone knows."

"Except Tony." Thor said it slowly, then chewed on his bottom lip.

"Oh, man. Mr Stark. We have to tell him."

"Now _this_ ," Strange's arms began glowing green. "Is a great example of the type of open dialogue I encourage you to develop. Damn shame you're going to have to do it all over again."

It looked like a flick of the wrists, a few mumbled words. Something small. Peter couldn't remember. The next thing he knew, he was trapped in some sort of gravitational bubble, hovering over the streets of New York when he heard a crack of thunder.


	12. Fight of the Valkyrie

Peter propped his computer up on his legs, giggled when he finally realized why it was called a laptop. He kicked an old blanket off the edge of the bed and tried to concentrate. Between all the avenging and sneaking around with Thor, he was seriously neglecting his school work. 3,000 words on the role of domestication in early human civilization couldn't be that hard. Domesticating crops, domesticating animals, domesticating man himself. For the first time in his life, Peter found himself fascinated by the thought of his own domestic life.

_Focus, Peter._

He typed his name in the top corner. Peter Parker.

2,998 words to go.

It's commonly believed that ancient Egyptian cats actually domesticated themselves. Humans always left food and water out if they came around often enough, so they eventually just stopped leaving. It was almost symbiotic. Peter bookmarked a site on symbiots. Maybe he and Thor should get a cat!

He blasted webbing towards the window the moment he heard the creak of the window frame, the hair on his neck stood up moments earlier.

A strange woman flailed, her arms and hair turning into a wild blur before she fell onto his bedroom floor.

"Ahh shit!" She hit the wood with a thud. 

Peter reclined back onto his bed. Whoever she was, she didn't seem to be much of a threat. He closed his laptop and waited for her to brush the webbing off her body. The scent of whiskey wafted off her and punched him in the nose, pulling up memories of Mr Stark and poorly chaperoned school dances.

"Alright," the woman sprung to her feet. A gun-metal gray breast plate clung to her chest, a collection of small pieces of armor had broken her fall. Threat or not, she had definitely crawled through his window looking for a fight.

"Alright. You! You're Peter, I'm assuming."

"Umm, yes?"

She motioned for him to get up. "You think you're Peter or you know you're Peter? Come on, get up. Let's have a fight."

Peter put both hands up and slid off the top of his bed as slowly as possible. Last thing he need was to startle her. "Look, I assume you're somehow an Avenger in another dimension or something but I really don't want to fight you."

"That's too bad. Scared?"

Peter kept both hands up as he stood. "Yes! Both scared for me and a little concerned for you. Are you alright? Who are you?"

"I'm the chick that's about to kick your ass. Me and," she looked at both of her fists lovingly, "me and the girls here. Princess Leia and Skeggjold."

Peter's spider-sense gave him nothing. Despite his strange and possibly drunk window crasher, he wasn't in any real danger.

"It's totally cool that one of your fists is named Princess Leia and I'm not sure who Sketch-gold is but I'm sure he's cool, too. But-"

"She," Valkyrie interrupted. "She's cool as shit. Who is the coolest woman on this planet?"

"Oh man, I'm not really the best source on cool people. Maybe Beyonce?"

"Great. Then me, Princess Leia, and Beyonce are here go kick your ass. How's that?"

"Pretty intimidating, actually." Peter swallowed. She wasn't from Earth, she wanted to hurt him, and she said names like Skeggjold. She had to be from Asgard.

"Did Loki send you?"

The woman put down her fists and cocked her head. "Loki? Why would I ever- No! I am here to defend Thor, rightful King of Asgard. You have no right holding him on this backwater of a planet."

Peter nodded, this was starting to make sense. He opened his mouth to explain when the woman roared at him. She crouched down and jumped forward, strong legs propelling her off the ground.

She immediately crashed to the floor again, jaw landing hard against the floorboards.

"Oh my god, are you ok?!" Peter resisted the urge to get within arm’s length but still knelt on the ground to study her. "I'm so sorry."

She rolled on her side and stared at her ankle, marveled at the webbing wrapped around her boot and stuck to the floor. She laid back on the floor and laughed.

"When did you do that?"

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "When you were naming your fists."

"Clever."

"Thank you! I'm in my second year at Columbia." His cheeks flushed red. Valkyrie reached for something under his bed and came back with a bottle of lubricant.

"What's this? It's Thor's, I can sense his presence on it."

"Nothing!" Peter shot a line of webbing and ripped it from her grip. "That is not for, it's just - don't worry about it."

A playful smile crawled across her face. She stared at him for a moment, her hand still groping under the bed. "Ahh, so you're not keeping him hostage here after all. I see."

Peter wanted to explain, but where to start? The Avengers. The Chitauri. The slow growing but deep roots of their relationship sinking into each other. Thanos. The college essay he needed to focus on writing as soon as strangers quit breaking into his childhood home.

"No no," she held a hand up, pulled a tiny bottle of glue out from under Peter's bed. "I get it. Hey, what's this?"

"Glue. For building model ships and Lego stuff- and, you know what, never mind. Who are you? What are you doing here?"

She sat up on the floor, spun her legs out in front and sat calmly.

"Look, Peter. I assume you're actually _the_ Peter, right?"

"Probably?"

"Brilliant. Look, Peter. Thor is important to a lot of people. He has duties to an entire refugee population. I'm just here to make sure he's not being held against his will. So this glue-"

"Not strong enough to hold Thor."

"Good."

They stared at each other for a moment. The woman tilted her head and stared into him, nearly looking through him. She wouldn't be able to sneak up on him, and he was too clever to attack straight on. She folded her arms across her chest.

"You don't look very strong."

Peter shrugged. "I met you five minutes ago and you've already fallen over twice."

"Ha! This? This is just a good sit, that's all." She gestured towards the floor, ripped the webbing off her boot and pushed herself onto her feet. 

"I want to like you, Peter."

"I'm still working on it, myself."

She nodded. "Yeah, that takes a while. Clearly Thor sees something in you. So, I'm not going to kill you for now. But remind him that there are people who need him, too, will you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Gross. Don't call me that. I know what that means here."

She turned back towards the window and stopped herself before looking back towards Peter.

"You haven't seen the Hulk lately, have you? Big green guy. No?"

Peter shook his head. The Hulk didn't make public appearances these days.

"Ugh, figures. Now this glue. Like a rubber cement?"

"Kind of," Peter was perplexed by the mix of Earth things she knew. "It's an epoxy. Do you know epoxy?"

"Can it fuck you up?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's for building models."

She pulled off the cap and inhaled deeply. "Oooh. Yeah, you just redeemed this planet. Taking this with me!"

She placed a boot on the windowsill and looked back at him.

"See you around, Peter."


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh shit!" Peter jumped on top of the refrigerator the moment he heard a noise behind him. His eyes scanned for Valkyrie.

"Peter?" Clint yanked the ties on his half-open bathrobe. "What the hell are you doing up? You fucking with the air conditioner?"

Clint tended to wake up if someone three rooms down the hall rolled over, the sound of Phil's teeth chattering in their bed had practically been a cymbal crashing in his ears. He sat up, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Phil was curled into a tiny ball for warmth, blankets piled on top of him and teeth knocking together. The man could sleep through an alien invasion.

Clint winced as warm feet hit cold tile. He wandered into the kitchen and poked at the thermostat until he spotted someone else creeping through the darkness.

"Hello?" His voice echoed off the counter tops.

"Oh shit!"

"Peter? What the hell are you doing up? You fucking with the air conditioner?"

Peter crouched on top of the refrigerator, shoulders relaxing when he realized he wasn't under attack. Clint flipped on a light.

"Get down from there. Christ."

Peter crawled from the refrigerator, pupils still dilated. He opened the metal door and retrieved a water jug, holding it to his lips with both hands.

Clint waited. Tapped his foot on the cold ground while Peter sucked down a full gallon of water. He looked towards the windows, pretending to wait on Peter while actually studying his reflection in the windows. He was shirtless, skinny legs floating in gigantic pajama pants that were rolled multiple times at the waist. Clint could make out little red splotches along his collar bone. His hair couldn't decide if it wanted to cling to his forehead or stick up in the back so it did both.

Peter sucked in a deep breath when he'd drained the water. "Nice robe."

"Shut up." Clint pointed at the sink for Peter to refill the filter. "You work up a thirst turning down the thermostat?"

"No, sir." Peter shook his head. He slid the filter back into the fridge and shut the door as fast as he could."Ok. Have a goodnight."

"Not so fast," Clint grabbed him by the arm before Peter could disappear down the hall. He put both hands on Peter's bare arms, squared him up.

"Peter. Hey. It's not really my place but do we need to have a birds and bees chat? Or a... bees and bees chat?" Clint hated himself before the sound had left his lips but he knew Phil would kill him if he didn't try to help the boy out.

Peter's eyes bulged. "No! No-no, that's not, we're - I'm 19." His entire chest flushed red. "No. Thank you."

Clint watched as Peter nodded gravely.

"Alright. Well, we don't have super strength or anything, but we're here if you need to talk to some regular old humans. Well, Phil is here if you need to talk. I'm here if you need to learn how to tie a strong knot or something."

Peter's face burned so red he may as well have pulled his mask over his head

"Shit, not like that." Clint rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, good talk."


	14. Two’s company, an entire tower is a crowd

"We must tell him." Thor's voice was a low rumble from his chest. Peter's head rose and fell with each word, his hair soft and face warm against wall of muscle now serving as his pillow. The air was still thick around them, they kept their voices low. Holed away in Thor's suite within Avengers Tower, most of the team had figured out the two men had quietly become a duo but no one knew exactly how to break it to Tony.

Peter stretched, groaned. "Must we?"

"Do not mock my speech."

He peered up at Thor, large round eyes visible through the curtain of hair matted against his forward. Peter dropped his voice as low as he could and smiled. "I'm just playing, Muzzy."

Thor's laugh was louder than intended. He clapped a hand over his mouth. "We must tell him if only so I can laugh. We are letting him rob us of our time. Of our volume. But you must be the one to tell him, sugar cane."

Peter sat up, blankets pooling around his waist. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Alright, yeah. We just have to think of a plan. Get him drunk. Some place open air. With witnesses. Do they serve hard liquor at the UN?"

"The Man of Iron would never hurt you."

"Not worried about me, big guy." He ran a hand down the contours of Thor's arm. "You're the one that's going to have to deal with the wrath of Khan back there."

Thor's eyes flashed. He twisted his arm, ready to call for Stormbreaker.

"No!" Peter webbed the God's wrist back against the bed. "It was a joke. Khan is a TV character. Or at least I think he's a TV character. Ever since joining the Avengers it's hard to tell. Some of those old Power Rangers villains are disturbingly close to actual monsters we've faced. There was this one-"

A loud knock on the door interrupted him. Tony's voice reverberated against the door, there was audible scuffling behind him.

"Hey! Thor! Hey!" Tony jiggled the door knob. Pepper's voice yelled at him from further away. "Dude, what's the deal? Open the door. I've got news. Awesome news. Like, the BEST news!"

Peter scrambled to collect his clothes. Checked his phone. 5 missed calls from Tony Stark. He crammed his arms into a shirt, realizing it was Thor's when it nearly went down to his knees.

Thor rushed to pull a fresh pair of pants from the dresser, stopped to admire Peter for a moment. "I kind of like it."

"Winnie the Pooh. The shirt with no pants."

"I don't get it."

"Another one to add to the watch list." He swapped out their shirts.

"Hey!" Tony yelled through the door, his mouth must've been right against the wood. "I hear you in there. Hello?! JARVIS, what's the deal in there? Pull up video."

"NO!" Pepper shouted, this time much closer to the door. "JARVIS, do not invade Thor's privacy like that! Tony, get away from - OWW! You did not just bite me. Anthony Stark, I swear to God-"

The scuffle continued outside of the doorway. Tony laughed, screamed, beat his fist on the door while clearly trying to evade Pepper.

Thor watched silently as Peter opened the bedroom window and hunched in the window frame.

"I’m not a fan of you leaving like this."

"Yeah, well," he reached for the back of Thor's head. Thor kissed him back, then waited expectantly for Peter to finish his thought. "I got nothing. Spray some Febreeze or something before you open that door!"

He leaned backwards and dropped out of the window, a high-diver gracefully negotiating gravity with twists and tucks until his webbing caught a light post. He swung around like a carnival ride and flung himself into a quiet alley. Thor ignored the sound of the knocks on his door and waited until Peter reemerged, his t-shirt ruffled and shoes untied, and began walking towards the front entrance of Avengers Tower.


	15. Tower of Terror pt 2

Peter held the phone up to his ear while he waited for the light to turn green. "Mr Stark! I'm so sorry, don't know how I missed your call. I must've been in a Twilight Zone or something. I never even felt it ring. Weird."

"Kid! Where are you? GPS says you're in the building."

"What?!" Peter stumbled on his walk towards the tower. "Are you tracking me all the time?"

"No! Not all the time. Just when I open the tracking app."

He heard Pepper push her way towards Tony's phone. "All the time, Peter!"

"Ok, well. I'm actually in the neighborhood. Just on my way to your place."

"Great! Man, I was worried there for a minute. It said you were here, it was very 'the calls are coming from inside the house', you know? Come up! I have news."

Peter didn't exactly lie. But it wasn't exactly the truth. Turns out he hated both. He flashed a badge at security and was up the elevator in minutes. He could hear them yelling before the doors even opened. Pepper and Tony, Sam, Wanda, Nat, Clint. Possibly more. Peter had been too distracted with Thor to realize how full the Tower had gotten.

"Peter!" Tony practically dragged him into the living room by his wrist. "Coolest thing just happened. Look!" Tony flailed his hands for a moment. "Alright, JARVIS, play it back."

The sound flickered for a moment before the audio signal was boosted. "... is for Anthony Edward Stark. The Norwegian Nobel Committee is proud to inform you that Mr Stark has received an official nomination for the committee's Peace Prize. We will contact you shortly with written confirmation and further information on-"

"The fucking Nobel Prize!" Tony shook Peter by the shoulders. "Me! Peace Prize nominee. How many former arms dealers can say that, huh?"

"This is incredible!" Peter's smile took over his face. "What do- how do you- Should we go check the mail?"

The others cheered behind him. Clint and Wanda scrambled to set out champagne glasses. Tony hugged Peter again and hopped up and down. Peter squeezed him back for a long moment. Nat stood behind Tony and locked eyes with Peter. She slowly ran a hand through her hair.

Peter understood. Fixed his hair while still hugging Mr Stark. Thor must've really made a mess of it that morning. He mouthed "thank you" back at her but she was already busy passing out champagne flutes.

"Hey, can I have some?" Peter broke the hug and Tony immediately handed him a glass.

"Sure, why not. I'm winning the fucking Nobel prize. Champagne for everyone!" He handed Peter a glass that Clint immediately swiped from him. Where did he come from?

Tony frowned. "Party pooper. Speaking of - where is Thor? THOR! Get in here you big sexy alien." He turned his gaze back to Peter. "Why is everyone so hard to find today. It's not like-" he squinted at Peter's t-shirt. "- What is that?"

"Huh?" Peter's hair stood up on end. Something was wrong. He turned in a circle trying to follow Tony's gaze. "What's what?"

"That," he stopped the teen from spinning. "You got something on your shirt. Right there, on the sleeve."

Peter pulled at the sleeve, his eyes bulging in horror. No no no no no.

"It must be some sort of glaze." Clint immediately inserted himself between Tony and Peter. He dipped his fingers in the champagne flute and rubbed them against the glistening white streak that ran across Peter's shirt. "You eat a donut this morning, Peter? Must've been from a donut."

His rubbed the streak away, never breaking eye-contact with Peter. 

"Umm. Yeah. From Donatello's down the street." Peter's face burned. He didn't like telling half-truths to Mr Stark earlier. Now he had the entire Avengers team inventing lies for him. Clint's face was stern while he finished rubbing away the evidence of Peter and Thor's morning together. He handed the champagne back to Peter and left to scrub his hands in the sink, the water scalding.

Thor rounded the corner, hair wet, a clean shirt buttoned up conservatively. "I hear we are celebrating?"

Tony hugged him. "Yes! We're celebrating. Celebrating me! Where the hell have you been, Asgard?" He poured two more glasses of champagne, handed one to Thor. "Or were you off eating donuts all morning, too? Do you even know what a donut is? Don't answer that. Knowing you, you're probably just interested in eating holes all day."

Peter choked into his glass, effervescent bubbles spilling out his nose and on to the floor.

Pepper slapped at Tony's chest. "Tony!"

"What? Thor has weird eating habits. Someone in the world has to like donut holes, otherwise they wouldn't sell them. What is with everyone today? Kid, you alright?"

Peter tried to nod his head. He cleared his throat. "I'm fine, Mr Stark. Just wasn't, ugh, expecting so much jizz. Fizz! Oh god, the fizz.”

"Is this your first ever glass of bubbles? Oh, wow. Dummy - go break out the good stuff from downstairs." Tony tossed his head back and downed his second glass. "We have so much to celebrate today!"


	16. Chapter 42

It was a featureless white room. Circular. Clinical. Slowly closing in on them.

Their best working theory was that a cursed pen had somehow made it into Avengers Tower, found it's way to their residential floor, and made a home in the drawer full of loose pens and paper clips and twist ties. Clint had barely pressed it against the crossword puzzle when they were warped into the white room, space and time slipping and condensing and dropping them into a blank space that was closing in faster and faster.

They were pushed together, feeling their ribs creak from the pressure and succumbing to the claustrophobia when Clint saw the hint above them and said the answer to 2 Down. The walls ebbed, falling back slightly. The room was the crossword, always one clue away from crushing them like a trash compactor.

Thor couldn't break through the walls. Tony couldn't risk a blast in the tight quarters, if he didn't break through the wall he'd kill everyone else in the room. Clint and Nat searched for structural weaknesses. Until he figured out 2 Down.

With two hints left, the walls began moving faster. Almost aware their opportunity to smash their captives was running out.

"Ahh, guys," Tony pressed against the wall, felt his feet slipping along the white tiled ground. "Ok, next clue. Time is factor."

Clint stared up at the ceiling to read their penultimate hint. 8 letters long. The second to last letter had to be an S. The hint: to bail out an undeserving partner, short hand.

"Oh come on, Nat. Undeserving? I saved your ass twice that mission."

Nat looked up at the hint, rolled her eyes. They'd discovered early into the curse that the game wasn't interested in playing nice. Every hint pulled at their personal dynamics, tried to drive splinters into the group.

"Budapest." Nat said it slowly. The walls stopped. She looked at Clint and shrugged.

"Fight about it later," Tony batted the tension away, stared up at the ceiling. "We're almost out of this one and - ahh hell, what language is that in. Thor, do you speak that?"

The God of Thunder mouthed words as he tried to read. "It is not a language I have ever encountered."

"Shit."

"I got it, hold on," Nat studied each word. "It's one of the Romani languages. Significance? Meaning? Meaning of life. It just says ‘meaning of life’."

The hollow roar of the walls restarted, the four of them pushed back. The meaning of life in Romani? Family. Freedom. God. They all thought out loud, yelling answers and rolling off each other's thoughts as fast as possible, the walls inevitably pushing them closer and closer.

Thor pushed so hard the skin against his knuckles began to break open. Romani, he learned, were world wanderers. He looked up to the ceiling and yelled.

"FORTY TWO!"

The walls stopped and immediately began to crumble, grains of sand cascading down into heaps of dust. A pinpoint vortex pulled the grains towards it and re-centered the gravity in the room. The four of them were pulled through the worm hole before they knew it was there.

And back in Avengers Tower. Standing in the living room.

Clint patted himself down. "What the hell was that?"

"The language of wanderers," Thor put his arm up and leaned against the window, happy to see an outside world instead of white walls. The sky looked oddly gray, he realized for the first time that the windows in Avengers Tower might be tinted. "Wanderers are like hitchhikers. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy-"

"Forty two," Tony completed the thought. "In the book, the meaning of life is 42. Brilliant."

Nat patted him on the back. "Thor, picking up some Earth trivia. You saved our lives."

"Wait," Tony put his hand up, "Wait-wait-wait. Just one minute here." He spat out each word precisely. The high pitched whir of machinery meant he'd activated something within his suit. "Thor, how do you know about that book? What nerdy Earthling could've told you about that book?"

Thor froze in place, eyes darting to Nat and Clint for quick help. "I can explain."

"Tony. Stay calm."

"No, Nat, I don't think I will!" Tony's eyes stared a hole through Thor. "I knew there was no way he could've been at that donut shop. You had me worried about my satellite tracking. You son of a bitch."

A bright flash tore through the window and took Thor with it. The sky outside was a bright blue. Those windows were definitely tinted.


	17. Skip the Handshake

Ever since Tony missile'd him out a window, Thor had been weary about returning to Avengers Tower. He used the time as an opportunity to visit with Asgardians gathered in Norway, reconnect with Loki on a random planet he'd started occupying, and eventually returned to the tower when he knew Tony was away on a business trip.

Sneaking Peter into the tower was next to impossible. Instead, Thor had become much more accustomed to the neighborhood of Forest Hills, Queens. Peter was thrilled, taking advantage of May's trip out of town as an excuse to have a lost weekend with his boyfriend. Boyfriend? Thor seemed a little old and little too not-from-Earth to be deemed a boyfriend, but Peter wasn't too concerned with finding an alternative term.

Not when they had an entire four days of unfettered access to each other. A chance to be loud. To laugh or moan or trash talk while playing video games that Thor had gotten weirdly good at recently. Peter crammed a handful of popcorn into his mouth and rolled the thought around in his mind - he had a boyfriend who liked video games almost as much as he did. And not just any boyfriend, but one who easily survived being blown out of a skyscraper.

He rushed home from classes every day, hopping the LIRR out to Queens nearly felt like a punishment when all he wanted to do was slip on his mask and speed-web his way back home. He made it home the first day to see that Thor had discovered the deli down the street and bought enough bagels and lox to feed a small army, which was just the right amount for the two of them. The week was like Christmas and his birthday and his driver's license all wrapped into one.

His bed nearly broke in half by the end of their four days, but Thor was alarmingly handy with woodworking and had made small repairs where necessary. A boyfriend who liked video games, survived being blasted out of a skyscraper, and knew a decent amount of carpentry. Peter was on a winning streak.

He laid back in bed, felt the bed sag and rise when Thor got to his feet. "Water," was all he could get out before he staggered to the door. Peter grinned, watched the muscles in his back flex as he walked. Thor had little butt dimples in the small of his back that Peter had grown very fond of after four days of no clothing.

Thor made his way to the kitchen, fingers groping for a glass inside the cupboard. He hummed an old Asgardian folk tune and waited for the water to turn cold. He was warm, mind fuzzy, water cold and satisfying. It took him a moment to even hear the screams.

"What? What?!" He slammed the glass on the counter, stared at the woman standing in front of him. How long had there been a woman standing in front of him.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" She ran to a wall, turned on a light. "Who the hell?! Peter!!"

Thor closed his eyes. May was home early.

"Peter," Thor called for him in the calmest voice he could muster. "Sugar cane! Could you come help? Peter!"

Peter barreled into the kitchen. "Oh. Shit. Hi, May."

"Oh shit is right," she pointed at Peter. "You want to explain to me why your physics professor is naked in my kitchen? And you - put something on! What is wrong with you?"

"My apologies," Thor pulled a box of Lucky Charms cereal from the cupboard and held it over his manhood. "I did not intend to frighten you."

"You didn't intend - Stop talking! Peter. You have 30 seconds."

Peter shifted his weight from foot to foot, aware he was in a ratty t-shirt and boxer shorts while his nearly naked maybe boyfriend stood in his aunt's kitchen just a few days after his mentor had blown him out of a window. It was a lot.

"He's not my professor."

"Not after this, he isn't! Oh you better believe I-"

"Thor's not a professor at all, May. Look," he pulled at the hem of his shirt, "look. We need to talk."

She rapped her fingernails against the countertop, tried to study the desperate expression on her nephew's face. "Go get dressed. I'll make some tea."

Thor extended a hand. "Thor Odinson."

"Both hands on the box, mister." May rummaged through the kitchen for packets of chamomile. Lavender. Anything calming would do.


	18. So a spider, a billionaire, and a god walk into a bar...

"Oh yeah?! NEWS FLASH - hot shot. Your muscles can't take care of fucking everything in life, ok?!" Tony yelled, got right up in his face. The remnants of his last shot sputtered off his lips, spraying tequila along Thor's stubbled jaw line.

"Ok?! You can't- you won't be able to protec him always! An even if you could, you're - what - a bazillion years old? No. No fucking way."

The rest of the bar had been cleared out. Tony threw an actual stack of money at the owner and watched the patrons empty out before the other Avengers joined him. Buying out a bar for a night was usually a fun way for the group to blow off steam. Tony just had more steam than usual, and was ready to explode.

Steve and Peter tried to intervene briefly before Bucky pulled them back. These two had to settle things sooner than later.

Thor chugged a pint of beer in two swallows. Clint whispered a dirty joke about it to Phil, who slapped him in the back of the head. Wanda and Nat sat at a table in the corner, taking shots and ignoring the men around them. No one was particularly surprised. Tony had already tossed Thor out of the building with a short range missile, a bar fight seemed far less destructive.

The red and yellow metal climbed up his hand and wrist, took over his right arm. He balanced his elbow on the bar. Arm wrestling could, given the right amount of alcohol and the right dive bar, solve all of life's problems.

"Forty two," Tony spat. "Fucking forty-two. Come on, Thor! Let's see how strong you are."

The god signaled for another beer, walked around the other side of the bar and clasped hands with Tony. "You are making a fool of yourself, Man of Iron."

"Less talk-y more arm wrestle-y."

Sam cleared empty pint glasses and scattered shot glasses off the bar while the two men thrashed. Thor's knuckles ran white, the metal glove of Tony's suit squeezing with all it's might. Thor wrapped his lips around his teeth and growled, Tony's hand popping and crinkling like a soda can.

They battled before something extra in Tony's suit seemed to spring into action, his arm thrumming and slowly pushing Thor's fist into the hard wood of the bar.

"Ha! I knew it! Now what?!" He held up both fists in celebration, one flesh and one metal. "Now you stay the hell away from him. Because if you hurt him, I swear to God, Thor. If you hurt him, I will feed you to the angriest volcano I can find."

Peter waited patiently for Tony to turn towards him, arms still raised in victory.

"Now against me."

"Huh?" Tony screwed his face up, looked to Phil for some kind of guidance. "Do what now, kid? Go home, it's past your bedtime."

Peter walked to the other side of the bar, stood beside Thor while he massaged his forearm. Peter rolled up his sleeve. This was his fight. Or, at least his fight to end. He put an elbow up on the bar.

"Mr Stark," he tried to conceal the crack in his voice. "Mr Stark. Once more. No armor."

Tony cocked his head, staggered back up to the bar. "Peter. Peter I'm trying to help you. I know you don't see it now but-"

"Mr Stark." He held his hand out. "I'm 19. And we're going to do this."

Tony rolled his eyes. His suit folded itself away as he placed an elbow on the bar top. "You're being a child, Peter," he slurred the words out.

They clasped hands and both pushed against the other. The room stared, even Nat and Wanda sucked into the confrontation.

Tony's face became a deep red. Peter's remained impassive. Calm. He wasn't even trying. He waited for Tony's eyes to meet his own, then promptly pressed his mentor's fist into the wood. Peter was lean, skinny, a greyhound of a super hero. But without his armor, Tony could never match Peter's strength. A fact they were all too quick to forget.

"I know it's hard for you Mr Stark," Peter still held his hand against the bar. "But this is my decision. And I'm stronger than you think."


	19. Schoolyard Games in Valhalla

All four Lokis marched towards him. All with very real and very sharp blades attached to their scepters, all with their teeth bared and gleeful smiles. Thor swung himself in a circle, picked up enough centrifugal force to knock a planet off it's axis and hurled Stormbreaker at one Loki. The right Loki. He knew not to bother with the other three. Their smiles looked too genuine.

"How did you-" Loki tried to sit up, the axe pinning his chest to the ground. "How did you know?"

Thor put both hands on the butt of the axe handle, leaned his weight down onto it. Loki wheezed.

"You're not - heeeew - you're not going to gloat? Now, in your moment of victory?" Blood trickled down his chin but his lips were still curled into a smile. "Oh brother, that's not like you."

The smile melted off his face, and soon Loki himself disappeared. Thor turned 180 degrees, saw his brother sitting calmly in the field behind him. Loki patted a tree stump beside him.

"Alright, time out. Come tell Loki what's wrong." He stretched out his hand and the stump changed shape, wood creaking and forming a chaise lounge as if he were both the Trickster God and Sigmund Freud.

Thor called his axe back to his hand and slumped onto the chair beside his brother without speaking a word.

"Oh, it must be something serious indeed." Loki crossed his legs, uncrossed them, crossed them again. He toyed with his scepter. "Let me guess. Did that Captain Rogers manage to pick up your precious new axe?"

"No." Thor stared at the grass, an overgrown child refusing to give anything away.

"Hmmm. Alright. Now don't tell me, I'm sure I can guess! Did you lose your new eye?" He leaned forward in his chair to get a good look at his brother. "No, I can see that's not it."

Loki held his chin with two fingers, bounced his foot as he thought. "You're not in the mood to boast. None of the precious Avengers lifted your little hatchet. Your eye is... as good as it's going to get. Then it must be - a girl! It's girl troubles."

Thor huffed and crossed his arms.

"A boy!" Loki clapped in amusement. "Please, not that horrible Dr Banner. I couldn't make it through the first Yule without poisoning him or that dreadful Hulk."

Loki grinned at Thor, sighed dramatically when he got no reaction.

"No, of course not Dr Banner. He's much too busy for you. You need them to be unattached, able to focus just on you. The whole cosmos have to be focused on Thor! It's got to be someone boring and unambitious, someone dull enough to make conversation with you, of all people. Yes, this man must be so dimwitted-"

"Young Peter is a GENIUS!" Thor was on his feet, weapon millimeters from his brother's throat.

Loki pushed Stormbreaker away with a dainty finger. That was easier than he'd expected.

"The Spider," it made a certain sort of sense. Thor always liked to make things difficult for himself. "I suppose he's handsome enough, in that sinewy kind of way."

"He's stronger than he looks." Thor sat back down, spun the axe in his hand. "He is clever. Skilled in the Midgardian magic of engineering and growing more powerful every day. He is inquisitive and his eyes, they can see the good within us all. He sees me. Sees me in a way no one-" he stopped himself, remembered who he was talking to. "He's a good man."

"And you can't win him over?"

"No, I have. I am certain of it. But I have failed to persuade the rest of his court. The Man of Iron. The sister of his mother. I have yet to meet his peerage."

Loki nodded, already getting the point. "And they are not won over by a pair of broad shoulders like your spiderling. Well then, find another way to win their favor."

"How?" Thor finally turned towards Loki. "How do I win them over, brother?"

"Show them another side. Surely you are more than a crude warrior. You are the God of Thunder. And," Loki's smile slowly took over his face, "brother. You are also **it**. Tag."

Thor felt it slice into him before he could turn around. A second Loki behind him, jamming the tip of his scepter into Thor and stabbing him in the shoulder blade. Their game was back on.


	20. God Eat Dog World

Peter was impressed. A little confused about why it existed, but still impressed. Thor could tell by the way his boyfriend hummed and stared at it in his hand.

A swan. Well, it was actually a crab meat rangoon that Thor had shaped into a swan before dunking it in the deep fryer, but it still largely resembled a swan. It was part of a small zoo he'd fashioned out of dough, meat, and cheese. He spread his arms to present his tasty masterpieces.

"Ta-do!"

"It's ta-da."

"Ta-daaaa!"

Thor's smile was more eye-catching than the appetizers he made but Peter forced himself to inspect the food anyway. A turtle with cheese jammed inside the shell, that one seemed pretty obvious. A snake, long and skinny with one large bulge in the middle, it had clearly swallowed an entire lump of crab meat earlier. And a... weird pile of crispy friend dough and cheese?

"What is that?" Peter poked at it, licked his finger. His eyes lit up for a moment. It was a mess but it was going to be tasty.

"That is Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. See that one is a clam shell stuffed with crab meat cheese and that," he tried to prop up a hideous stick figure he'd made from the fried dough "is the Venus. She's... not... she's not cooperating."

He grabbed the pile of dough from the counter and crammed it in his mouth.

"Venus!" Peter feigned horror. "You just ate the goddess of love."

Thor spoke with his mouth full, tried to whisper. "She's not a real goddess. Don't tell anyone."

"Secret's safe with me," Peter held up his hand in Scout's honor, realized Thor had no idea what he was doing. He swiped a panda off the counter top and crunched on him. His knees nearly buckled.

"Oh man, these are... Wow!"

"Yeah?" Thor's nonexistent tail wagged.

"Yes, Muzzy," Peter took the cue, nuzzled against him. He crunched loudly in Thor's ear.

"That is upsettingly sexy." The blond closed his eyes, rubbed his head against Peter and listened to the other man chew. He was proud to finally make a dish on his own. Even more so that Peter seemed to love it.

"You've got some weird turn ons, but I like it." Peter popped a dog-like-thing in his mouth with one hand and pulled up the hem of his shirt with the other, flashing his stomach at Thor while he chewed and tried not to choke on his own laughter. "How about this? Yeah? This do it for you?"

"If I were to say no, would you keep eating anyway?"

Peter shrugged, reeled the bigger man in by the strings of his apron. They shifted their weight from foot to foot. Not exactly dancing but swaying with each of Peter's overly loud bites. Left, chomp, right, chew. Fingers plucked at apron knots and untangled them, warm hands slid under t-shirts, crunching bites between teeth gave way to feathered kisses along shoulders.

Peter swayed while Thor walked him through his grand vision. Crab meat rangoon was just the beginning. There'd be a soup course. Salads and meats and drinks. By the end, Tony and May and Phil and all the others would be stuffed. They'd have full bellies and see Thor with new eyes. They'd see more than a warrior. He was the king of Asgard! A budding chef. A gamer. A surprisingly good dancer, an art lover, a beer aficionado, even a fan of the zoo! But even zoo-loving kings sometimes fall for their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.


	21. Hot Seats

Steve cut scrap paper into rectangles, folded them in half and propped them up on the table, steep ramps made from old grocery lists. Pepper scribbled initials onto them as they walked around the table. The placard of "TS" in the center of the long table. "PP" to the right. "SR" to the left. "BB" one further.

"No," Steve stopped pacing. "No, I can't sit that close to Tony because Tony can't sit that close to Bucky. They're still a little raw."

Pepper nodded, swapped Bucky's paper with "SW" multiple seats away.

"But then I won't be able to sit next to Bucky," Steve whined. "Don't punish me for their bad behavior."

"Isn't that what we do? Punish ourselves for their bad behavior. Constantly." Pepper swapped them back. Steve shrugged and laid additional placards on the other side of the table.

"Oh no," she shook her head. "You can't put Wanda directly across from him. You throw a celebratory dinner for his Nobel nomination and put Wanda across from him, he won't seem so peaceful."

They stared at the table. Steve swapped Wanda out for Dr Banner, but was immediately reminded of the fact that Bruce and Nat weren't on the best terms. Not that they were on bad terms. They just weren't on _terms_ at all, both opting to pretend like everything between them was resolved, effectively hyper-charging every room they shared with unspoken tension. They were already pretending to throw Tony a celebration dinner when they were actually throwing a Thor and Tony reconciliation dinner, they really didn't need to add hyper-charged tension to the menu.

Pepper placed Peter's name across from Tony's, drummed her fingers on the table. She slid "TO" next to Peter and waited for Steve to interject.

"I'm not so sure, Pep."

"I'm not, either, Steve. But everyone has to sit somewhere."

"For owning the tower, Tony sure hates a lot of the people in it."

She pushed all of the paper placards into the center and started fresh. "If we can work out these seating arrangements, we should get our own Peace prize. We just need to keep him two degrees removed from anyone he's currently fighting with."

"What about a center piece? Or champagne buckets!" Steve clapped his hands together with surprising force. "Champagne buckets along the table. Create a barrier between Tony and everyone who can't be seated near him."

Pepper nodded. "Tony already uses alcohol as a barrier, this seems like a fairly natural extension of the practice. Good work, Steve."

"Happy to help."


	22. What’s My Age Again?

Peter woke up earlier than usual, the morning light impossibly bright from Thor's window. He worked timetables out in his mind - when foods needed to be prepped, dishes that could share the oven at the same time, how many drinks Tony would likely have before challenging Thor to a push up contest. He wasn't normally the type to run through multiple contingency plans - or even _make_ contingency plans - but he couldn't turn his mind off all morning.

He rolled out of bed and tried to stretch out unexpected soreness in his muscles. He leaned down, pressed his hands to the floor in an attempt to loosen the tightness in his back. He ignored the slight twinge in his knees and tiptoed to the bathroom, careful not to wake up Thor who seemed to be dead to the world.

Peter ran through his morning routine on autopilot, sleep still clinging to the wrinkles in his brain. He brushed his teeth and checked his reflection in the mirror. Something about it looked strange even through the layer of steam left over from his shower. He bumped into the towel rack, body still slow and bulky as he wiped the mirror clean.

Peter blinked. The mirror man blinked back at him. It was his uncle Ben, almost. It was Peter, definitely. A heavy stubble he'd never grown ran across his jaw, which flexed with each stroke of his tooth brush. His hair was slightly shaggier, face rounder and chin more pronounced. He looked like a business man on a bachelor weekend. A dad about to load two kids into a stroller. An exact version of himself at 35.

"Ok Peter," he leaned closer to the mirror to whisper to himself. "This is not the first time you woke up transformed. You got this."

He pressed his fingers to the wall to make sure he hadn't lost his powers. His hands looked harder, bigger. His entire body had filled out with age. He poked at his own pec with a sheepish grin. Aging had done him right.

"First things first," he rinsed his toothbrush off, dropped it in the cup. He walked as softly as possible to the side of Thor's bed and checked his phone, checked the date.

"Not the future, you're just old. Today. That's... probably good?" Peter muttered to no one.

He grabbed a pair of briefs and held them up. He'd be lucky to get them up one leg. He quietly opened a drawer, pulled on a pair of Thor's underwear. Found some jeans and a dark blue sweater, still too big for him even in his 30s but passable for a dinner. A dinner he was about to serve to half the Avengers and his Aunt May, whose generation he'd joined over night.

"Shit," he checked the mirror again. She was definitely going to notice. His back ached.

Thor was still cocooned in his warm bed. His breathing was slow and rhythmic, peaceful. Peter watched him for a moment and admired the way the morning light lit him up like a cherub. The soft peach fuzz along his chin glowing.

He inched closer. Thor had a temper and a pet axe. He did not have peach fuzz. Peter tried not to wake him as he stared at the youthful man in his bed. He couldn't be old enough to buy himself a drink in this town, looking more like some imaginary little brother than Thor himself. His cheek bones were sharp and defined, lips practically pink. He slept like a fucking rock.

"No no no no," Peter was horrified, a little turned on. "Not today. Not today. Thor! Wake up!"

"Whhhyyyyy?" He didn't open his eyes, rubbed at them with a noticeably smaller fist.

"Because I'm old enough to have seen Phantom Menace in theaters, that's why!"

Thor kicked at the covers for a moment before pushing himself up on his elbows. He looked down, immediately noticing the lean muscle in his body was not that of a bulging god. He ran his eyes down to the small tent he was making in the sheets and couldn't help but laugh.

"It's not funny! This is bad. We've pulled a Freaky Friday or something."

"I don't know what that means," Thor didn't look up, too busy flexing his hips in an attempt to make the tent wag at Peter.

"It's the old movie with that red-headed lady. Stop doing that!"

Thor finally looked up, the air leaving his lungs when he noticed Peter towering above him. "Oh. This is bad."

He stared up at Peter for a moment as he tried to comprehend what was happening. So this is what he'd be waking up to in a few years? His tent grew. 

"Is that my sweater?"


	23. A Dinner Date with Destiny

He'd always believed that with age came wisdom. Instead, with age came the obsessive making of mental lists. While Peter kept running through every possible scenario that could've sparked this nightmare - accidentally drinking a mislabeled potion, pissing off a hobgoblin, dying in their sleep and waking up in some ironic purgatory - Thor's mind had swollen with confidence. He practically sprinted around the kitchen, mixing things in bowls and pre-heating the deep frier and testing broth with the precision of an unmoored cannon.

"I mean," he pushed a mix of vegetables into a pot and gestured with the knife while he spoke, "it's not the end of the world. Loki didn't know what caused it but he said it doesn't seem permanent."

Peter's eyes followed the blade as he tried not to explode. "I get that, but this is a big deal, Thor. Just because Loki said it's not long lasting doesn't mean my aunt isn’t going to _freak out_ when she gets here. If Loki told you it was temporarily safe to jump off a bridge, would you-"

Peter slapped a hand over his own mouth to stop the sound from escaping his lips. He'd been old for three hours and already sounded exactly like his uncle. He wandered to the freezer, dropped two squares of ice into a glass, and poured himself a slug of whiskey.

"Should you - uh," Thor still gestured with the knife, seemingly unaware how incredibly unsafe it was. "I know you’re technically old enough for that, but... Should you, though?”

Peter took a swallow and winced through the burn before exhaling like a dragon. He was old enough to not really give a shit.

\-----------

"Oh, thank you." May smiled politely as she accepted the drink. Cocktail hour was slightly stiff but not nearly as awkward as they'd feared. Everyone mingled in the living room, the few invited Avengers all seeming to pretend they weren't in their own living room but here as guests of Peter and Thor. Bucky and Clint both tried to stay out of the way while their boyfriends tried to help Thor in the kitchen. Natasha and Pepper did their best to make small talk with May while Tony leafed through messages on his watch, occasionally stepping away to press his forehead against a window and yell into the phone.

May smiled politely as she accepted the drink. "Oh, thank you."

She turned back to Natasha to continue their chatter when something struck her. She swiveled on her heel, turned back to the man who had handed her the white wine spritzer.

"Peter?" Her eyes searched for fragments of her nephew, found his eyes and his lips.

He rubbed the back of his neck and lifted up his whiskey glass. "Hi, May. Cheers."

She nodded, dumbstruck. She sipped her spritzer and turned back to Natasha.

"My nephew looks like Tom Hanks in Big."

Nat smiled and tried to play along. "He does! He grew up to be very handsome."

"Over night!" May's laugh started small but grew. Natasha laughed but May drowned her out, the laughter gaining momentum like a snowball. She threw her head back, long hair waving and shoulders shaking as her laughter shifted into hysterics.

Tony stopped yelling into his phone. The room went silent aside from May's unhinged cackling.

Peter finished his second whiskey.

"No, it's cool. I get it." May dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. "It makes total sense. My nephew - who just _happens_ to be Spider-Man - became some sort of soccer-dad over night. Of course he did! Because he's dating a Norwegian super myth and spends half of his free time hanging out with a freeze-dried World War II action figure."

Bucky raised his hand from the couch. "Technically there are two of us left-over from World War II. I know you probably meant Steve, but-"

"Dude, shut up." Clint gritted his teeth.

"Friends!" Thor's voice was still resonant but not as low as he walked into the living room, dressed in Peter's Easter button up. "Soup is served, if you'll follow me to the dining room."

May stared at him for a moment, disbelief compounding. He smiled back at her, offered his hand. "Thor Odinson. Again, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"May," she shook his hand, jaw slack. "So you're-"

"Younger. Yes."

"How?"

He shrugged, bony shoulders touching his ears. "The universe likes to give me new challenges. But let's not let your soup get cold. It's French onion!"


	24. D-Day pt 2

Tony was determined to have a bad time. Pepper knew he was up to something the second he looked up from his watch with a smile. It all clicked when Peter set another plate down beside Natasha at the end of the table, the porcelain knocking loudly against wood as the man hadn't yet adjusted to the newfound strength he woke up with.

"No, it's fine," Peter lied. "You're here so please join us. The more the merrier!"

Dr Banner stood with his hands jammed into his pockets. "I'm really sorry. I didn't know it was a closed event when Tony called me. He just said everyone was having dinner and-"

"Dr Banner, please,” adult Peter sounded much calmer than he felt. “I'd love to have you here. I'll get you some silverware."

Bruce sat beside Natasha. He waved at her meekly.

"Bruce."

"Heya Nat. You get a haircut recently?"

"You get on any spaceships and abandon your friends recently?"

"Ooookay." He turned to face Pepper and Tony. "Why didn't you tell me this was an actual set dinner, Tony? I'm not supposed to be here."

Pepper rested her soup spoon on a plate. "Because he's deliberately stirring the pot. It is a joy to see you, though, Bruce. Even Peter looked happy to see you."

"THAT WAS PETER?!"

"Oh yeah," Tony sipped his soup as loudly as possible. "Peter and Thor swapped ages. Good soup, though." He leaned back in the chair, balanced on two back legs, and yelled down the table. "Thor! Doll face! If you're done getting your learner's permit, can I get some more soup?”

Down the table, May was busy pretending everything was normal while Phil and Steve tried to casually list all the ways Peter was a strong match for Thor.

"Who made the soup, Peter or Thor?" Phil asked no one.

"Thor," Steve dabbed his chin. "He did a great job, I'm sure this must have taken him ages. Peter must be teaching him some patience."

"Subtle," Bucky laughed. "Real subtle, babe."

May eyed the two of them. "So you're together, too."

"Yup," Bucky squeezed Steve's leg. "On and off for 100 years or so."

"Of course," she turned to Phil and Clint. "What about you - either of you a hundred years old or recently swapped bodies?"

"Yes."

"No."

Phil grimaced. "No, neither of us are 100 years old. Yes, Clint has swapped bodies before."

"It's true. I'm also deaf sometimes."

"Not helpful." Phil hissed.

"I'm not going to lie to her, for Chrissake. Being an Avenger is weird. Shit happens. You gotta shoot people straight. You can't sugar coat everything."

"I'm aware of that, Clint. But it's a dinner party, not a freaking _truth telling_ party. Some people like their coffee with a scoop of sweetner."

"Maybe she doesn't! May, do you like coffee with sugar or black?"

She scrunched her face together. "I'm really more of a tea drinker."

"See," Phil's spoon clanked against the bowl. "You have no idea what she even likes."

"I'm going to go see if Peter needs anything in the kitchen."

"Oh good, Clint. You do that. You go do just that!" Phil refused to turn and watch him go, instead re-focusing his attention on May.

"I'm sorry about that. We've got a - Well, his family- ... He's a fan of radical honesty."

"Uhm-hmm." May was past the point of surprise when Dummy swapped her empty wine glass with a full one and wheeled away.

"I'm going to level with you guys. I wasn't wild about Peter fighting crime in a Halloween costume and I'm not wild about him hanging out with eccentric billionaires with their own missile collections. But he's still busting bad guys and hanging out with billionaires. I can't stop him. So, knowing that, is he safe?"

Bucky and Steve looked to Phil, not sure how to massage the truth. Depends on who you ask. The Phil answer, with a heaping scoop of sugar, is yes. The Clint answer is a hard no, because no one is ever truly safe in this line of work.

Steve twisted his napkin under the table, arms flexing hard. "Well, not exactly. But he's a lot safer with Thor beside him."

Heavy sighs escaped Bucky and Phil, the tension dissipating with Steve's honest answer. May studied the three of them and nodded.

"Ok."

\-------------

"We must go join them. Eventually," Thor slid an arm around Peter, humming as his arm adjusted to Peter’s new bulk. "To be honest, I don't mind you like this."

"That's because your testosterone levels are temporarily through the roof," Peter laughed. He stared at the bowls of fried rice and plates of chicken they'd prepared. "I don't mind you like that, either."

Thor squeezed a little harder. They stood and enjoyed the brief silence. One room over, Clint forced Dr Banner to trade seats so he could bitch to Natasha and avoid Phil. Pepper quietly berated Tony for inviting Dr Banner in the first place. Steve and Bucky nodded in silence while a tipsy May made rapid progress with her acceptance of Peter's life.

"So," she held her wine glass and pointed at Bucky with one finger. "You. You seem like a good egg. What's the deal with Thor?"

"He's a stand up guy, ma'am."

"That's the thing though. Is he a man? A human man? Or is he, like, technically another species? I know he's a male because I saw it and wo-"

"Ok!" Peter interrupted, setting down two family-style dishes in the center of the table. His large shoulders flexed under the borrowed sweater. "Let's eat! Steve, scoot over, I'm sitting with my aunt."

"Hey Thor," Tony made a mountain of rice on his plate. "I know you're all wacky young today but normally, how old are you?"

"I’m not exactly sure. Younger than you?” The god hopped his chair forward and reached for his water glass. “Earth years do not align precisely with Asgardian time. Can you pass the chicken?"

Tony leaned forward and tried to make eye contact with May. "See, most people date men who only measure time in Earth years."

May shrugged. "Thor, you seem like a fine young man. It is what it is. But it’s Peter," she turned her attention to the fully grown man beside her, "who concerns me. The sneaking around. The lying about Thor being a professor. This isn’t the Peter I know."

The slightly unfamiliar face of middle-aged Peter blinked back at her.

"Ok, well _this_ is definitely not the Peter I know but you know what I mean. Plus-" she paused, squinted her eyes at Peter. She reached forward gently, her hand lying softly in his hair before she pulled back with a sharp yank.

"Ow! May! What the hell?"

She held the hair between two fingers and looked at the college-aged Thor. "Can you go gray? Do you pluck your hair?!”

An embarrassed red climbed up his neck and into his cheeks. "I, umm, I don't. I have-"

Phil stared down the table at Clint. "See, not everyone needs total honesty all the time. Everyone doesn’t need to know everything."

"Oh my god, let it go! I mean being open about the important stuff, not whether or not Thor is going gray. No one cares about that. I mean big stuff, Phil. Like knowing that Bucky leaves the room whenever anyone says “longing" or "rusted" or whatever. Big stuff!"

Bucky's eyes bulged. He turned to Steve, who already had both hands up in self defense.

"You told him the sequence?! Why, _Steve_ , why on the goddam green Earth would you tell anyone the sequence?!" He threw his napkin on the table.

"Guys," Bruce tried to hush the crowd. "Guys. Guys! We have company."

"No," Nat scoffed. "The rest of us have company. You're a party crasher."

"I was invited."

Pepper crossed her arms and stared at Tony. "I hope you're happy with yourself."

"Oh, I am."

"What possible purpose is there for someone else to know the sequence, Steve? Jesus! Use your head."

"Nice work, Clint. Real nice. Any other classified information you want to leak for the rest of the table during your tantrum?"

"I know I already asked this but, seriously, is Thor an alien?"

"Well have fun sleeping on the couch tonight, Phil! How's that for honesty?”

A hideous crunch ricocheted around the table. Bucky yanked his metal arm clean off his body and slammed it onto the dinner table.

"Here, Steve. Go fucking nuts, buddy. Because it's all you're getting tonight."

"Oh, dear God!"

"Bruce, just leave, it's what you're good at."

"I promise to keep an open mind, but can anyone else here detach parts of their body?"

"Real mature, Buck. Give yourself a hand."

Pepper stood up, her chair screeching. "You want mature? Those two," she pointed to Thor and Peter, quietly clutching hands across the table while their friends descended into madness. "Those two are in bodies that aren't even their own! I don't know what that's like but it's gotta be terrifying. Thor is so riddled with hormones he's gotten stress acne just from this dinner and Peter is on his third whiskey. You are not actually 40, young man, put it down! And you are all yelling about *actual* trigger words and complaining about party invitations."

She picked up her wine glass and finished it in slow gulps before slamming it onto the table. "I don't know how old either of them are right now, but the rest of you are acting like children. Now put your arm back on!"


	25. It’s Not Magic, It’s Worcestershire

"Get Stark," Peter grabbed at his head, worried it may split open if he didn't push both sides with his palms. He spoke through gritted teeth. "Go get Mr Stark."

Thor sprinted out of his own bedroom and returned seconds later with Tony, who was half-way through a cup of coffee and not pleased about teenage Thor pulling him away from his morning routine.

"Help," Thor pointed at Peter writhing in bed. "Please, do something for him!"

Tony leaned against the door frame and watched Peter toss himself around the bed. He tried to fight the smile on his face while sipping his coffee. It made sense immediately - Thor was a god, and Peter was normally 19. Today he still seemed to be somewhere in his late 30s, finally waking up after yesterday's disastrous but still somewhat successful dinner.

Neither of them had ever been hungover before.

"Sorry, kiddo. Or... adulto. Nothing you can do, just gotta ride it out. I suggest low lighting and an old timey radio show." Tony sipped his coffee, suddenly more than glad Thor had pulled him away to watch Peter fight off his first hangover. "Or a Broadway musical, one of those where they sing the whole plot. Anything that doesn't involve you opening your eyes is going to be ideal, really."

"Mr Stark... I.. I think I'm dying."

"We all are, buddy. Welcome to my world. Blondie, you familiar with the term bloody Mary?"

The god stared up at Tony, his eyes unsettling large in his younger frame. He shook his head.

Tony rubbed his hands together. "Ahh this is great! Follow me, we're going to go make your man a beverage."

"A healing elixir?"

"Yeah, sure why not. I know you're tiny right now but can you still fly because we're gonna need some pickle juice. Man, I wish I had a mentor like me when I was 38."

"I'm 19," Peter moaned into his pillow. Tony flicked on the bedroom light just for the pleasure of hearing him groan even louder. He cackled before turning it back off.

"Come on, lightning bug. I finally found something we can bond over."


	26. New Deal

Tony bobbled his head from side to side, woozy eyes settling on Peter. "So. I owe you an apology."

Peter nodded. Tony nodded back at him.

"Mr Stark, that's not an apology."

"It's implied." He worked out a kink in his jaw. "Fine. I'm sorry."

"Foooorrrr..."

"It's too early in the morning to start an itemized list for you, kid." He turned back to survey the kitchen, kicked at the shards of a plate he'd definitely broken earlier. They’d done a lot of damage after Pepper’s speech. He wasn't sorry about that.

"Hold up!" Tony swirled around, one finger up. "So you and Thor, huh? You're sure I can't talk you out of this one?"

Peter looked around the room. Clint Barton was passed out on an overstuffed couch. Bucky's severed arm rested on top of the coffee table. Someone had mashed half of Peter's cheesecake into the rug. He stepped forward, pulled at the sleeve of last night's sweater with one hand.

"Yeah. I'm sure. Yeah."

"You know he's, like, 300 years old."

"I know, Mr Stark."

Tony's eyes cleared for a moment as he considered the Peter in front of him. His brain attempting to reject the idea that his young charge was a consenting adult, even when he was an unnaturally aged 35 year-old staring back at him.

"Ok."

He turned and walked out of the room, screaming down the hallway, "Someone get me Thor!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, did you really read the whole thing? That’s awesome!! What was your favorite chapter? What worked, what didn’t, what needed more? Xoxo thanks for reading, you crazy completionist


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